“Is it you, Herbert?” he asked, faintly.

“Yes, Eben.  You don’t seem very prosperous.”

“I never thought I should sink so low,” answered Eben, mournfully, “as to saw wood for a colored man.”

“What are you talkin’ about?” interrupted his boss, angrily.  “Ain’t I as good as a worfless white man that begged a meal of vittles of me, coz he was starvin’?  You jest shut up your mouf, and go to work.”

Eben sadly resumed his labor.  Herbert pitied him, in spite of his folly and wickedness.

“Eben, do you owe this man anything?” he added.

“Yes, he does.  He owes me for his dinner.  Don’t you go to interfere!” returned the colored man.

“How much was your dinner worth?” asked Herbert, putting his hand into his pocket.

“It was wuf a quarter.”

“There is your money!  Now, Eben, come with me.”

“I’ve been very unfortunate,” wailed Eben.

“Would you like to go back to Wayneboro?” asked Herbert.

“Yes, anywhere,” answered Eben, eagerly.  “I can’t make a livin’ here.  I have almost starved sometimes.”

“Eben, I’ll make a bargain with you.  If I will take you home, will you turn over a new leaf, and try to lead a regular and industrious life?”

“Yes, I’ll do it,” answered Eben.

“Then I’ll take you with me to-morrow.”

“I shouldn’t like my old friends to see me in these rags,” said Eben, glancing with shame at his tattered clothes.

“They shall not.  Come with me, and I will rig you out anew.”

“You’re a good fellow, Herbert,” said Eben, gratefully.  “I’m sorry for the way I treated you.”

“Then it’s all right,” said Herbert.  Herbert kept his promise.  He took Eben to a barber shop, where there were also baths, having previously purchased him a complete outfit, and Eben emerged looking once more like the spruce dry-goods salesman of yore.

. . . . . . .

One day not long afterwards Mrs. Carr was sitting in her little sitting room, sewing.  She had plenty of leisure for this work now, for Mr. Graham had undertaken to attend to the post-office duties himself.  It was natural that she should think of her absent boy, from whom she had not heard for a long time.

“When shall I see him again?” she thought, wearily.

There was a knock at the outer door.

She rose to open it, but, before she could reach it, it flew open, and her boy, taller and handsomer than ever, was in her arms.

“Oh, Herbert!”

It was all she could say, but the tone was full of joy.

“How I have missed you!”

“We will be together now, mother.”

“I hope so, Herbert.  Perhaps you can find something to do in Wayneboro, and even if it doesn’t pay as well—­”

“Mother,” interrupted Herbert, laughing, “is that the way to speak to a rich boy like me?”

“Rich?”